


Homicidal

by lilaccoffee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Criminal Harry, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Oral Sex, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Prison, Rimming, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7670905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilaccoffee/pseuds/lilaccoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was put in West Rock for the murder of his boyfriend, Dustin. Four years later, he's released, trying to live a normal life and escape his reputation. </p>
<p>Then there's Louis, the curious new boy who needs to find out if Harry's a killer for himself. As Louis keeps up the chase, Harry grows more and more frustrated, and he finds his gaze on the knives. </p>
<p>One push may be all it takes to send Harry into a rage, but Louis is too in over his head to save himself now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a four book series I wrote two years ago, but it is no longer something I am proud to say that I wrote. So I rewrote it. The entire series is now one long book, and I think I'm going to be really proud of how this is going to turn out. Happy reading!

Louis has never liked getting out of bed. He’s sure he isn’t the only one who hits snooze more than twice so he can stay under the warm blankets, but his mum seems to think he is. Maybe it’s because Zinnia, his live-in best friend, is up and dressed before seven and helps get his sisters ready. It’s a job he knows he should be doing, but Zinnia seems to be getting him up more often than he does with his sisters.

He had planned on making today the exception to his insistent sleeping in, but then he presses snooze about three times before someone comes barging into his room. He expects it to be Zinnia, but his heart jumps to his throat when he sees his mum looming over his bed.

“Louis!” He can hear just how stressed she is through her yelling. “Get up! I need to be leaving for work in thirty minutes so I’m not late and I still need to take your sisters to school.”

Louis’ head pounds from her high pitched screaming.

“I’m getting up, I’m getting up,” he says.

He doesn’t move right away, and his mum stamps her foot.

“Now!”

He can see a few tears glistening in her eyes. Before he can ask if she needs help, truly, she leaves his room, the door slamming behind him.

Louis groans. He hadn’t meant to upset her, truly. He knows that his mum is stressed about the move and beginning a new job and sending her kids to a whole new school. And even if she won’t say it, he knows she’s still heartbroken about the divorce. But he’s tired, more so than usual. He can’t help that he tossed and turned all night, worrying about the new school and meeting new people and just being overall _stressed_.

They all are, even Zinnia, who puts on the bravest face he’ll ever see. So for her sake and his mum’s, he rolls out of bed and dresses quicker than the days when he was a child and didn’t care if his clothes matched.

Louis takes the stairs two at a time and slides into the kitchen on his socks with the worn down traction. His sisters are seated around the island, picking at pancakes that Zinnia appears to have prepared. She’s leaning against the counter, sipping on a meal supplement instead of eating the food she made. Louis knows this means her stomach is in knots. She’s always been good at hiding fear, but Louis has always been good at seeing through her.

“I made you a plate,” Zinnia says and points to the island.

Louis nods. He eyes her carefully as he eats, gauging every small move she makes for any sign of just how nervous she really is. She’s done a good job at hiding it: curled hair, makeup, pretty clothes. But Louis knows that looking put together is a comfort, especially when she’s frazzled on the inside.

His mum comes into the kitchen, muttering to herself, just after Zinnia has cleaned up. Louis had offered to help but she had turned him down, insisting that she could do it. That’s another sign of her hidden stress: needing things to be in order, her way.

“Morning, Jay,” Zinnia says. Her voice is so cheery despite the early hours, and it puts even Louis’ mum in a better mood.

“Morning, love.” She plants a kiss on Zinnia’s forehead. “Thanks for making breakfast. I really do appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I can do after everything,” Zinnia says, and Louis looks away.

Jay claps her hands. “Come on, girls. Time for school.”

The twins race to the front door to grab their shoes, and Felicite and Lottie trail behind them to do the same. Louis wishes he could still be excited about school the way Daisy and Phoebe are, but he liked his old life, even as crazy as it was. He doesn’t want the change.

Still, he finds himself in his car with Zinnia, driving them to school. She goes on about classes, and how she’s excited for them but also nervous. Louis listens to her and nods, because he is just nervous and doesn’t want her to worry. She worries about enough already.

The two of them pause outside of their new school. They stare at the massive building, and Louis senses Zinnia’s fingers shaking. He knows she gets just as anxious as him, but she’s better at hiding it. He takes her hand and squeezes. She doesn’t let go.

He’s sure they look like a couple to the people filing past, but Louis has gotten used to it. Since they were thirteen, everyone who’s seen them together coos about how cute they are together. Louis used to jump to deny it, tell them that he wouldn’t be with Zinnia, or any girl, but now he just smiles and says his thanks, because if he were capable of liking girls, Zinnia would be the best girl to date.

Louis turns to her. “You ready?”

Zinnia takes in a deep breath. “Yeah.”

So they walk. Into the building with their heads high and their fingers intertwined. Into the office to get their schedules. And into their homeroom classroom almost twenty minutes late, which is when their confidence starts to sag.

“Bonjour,” their teacher says, and Louis forces out the same sentiment.

Zinnia is already apologizing. “We are _so_ sorry. We’re new, we had no idea where we were going.”

Their teacher relents. “Take any available seats. I’ll send for your work to be given to you.”

“Merci,” Louis murmurs, and tugs Zinnia to the back of the room.

He knows that Zinnia likes to sit in the front better so she can see the board, but he prefers the back where it’s easier to blend in. With someone as exuberant as he can be, he tends to stick to the background. Maybe it’s because he’s never been as smart as Zinnia, and the front row always seemed to be where the smart kids would sit because it was where teachers were guaranteed to call on kids for answers.

In elementary school and at their old high school, they always compromised on the middle of the room. But here, the desks are set up in groups of four and every section is taken except for one at the back of the room, where only one person is winning. Louis tries not to feel like it’s a win as he and Zinnia plunk down at the desk beside each other and across from the boy.

“Okay, I’ll be back,” their teacher is saying in English, probably so it’s clearer to Louis and Zinnia. “Work on the verb pages in your exercise books while you wait.”

Louis watches her disappear from the room, flats clicking against the cool tiles. He looks at the boy in front of him and desperately wants to see his face, but all he sees is a mess of brown curls covering his face and a hoodie zipped up to his chin, almost like he has something to hide.

Louis’ eyebrows furrow.

“Hi,” Zinnia says, getting his attention.

The boy looks up, and Louis is struck by the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. There’s acne covering his forehead and cheeks in little spurts, and it’s clear that he poorly tried to cover them with makeup.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is deeper than Louis expected.

“I’m Zinnia, and this is Louis,” Zinnia continues. Her smile has always been infectious, but not for this kid, it seems. “We’re—”

“New, I know,” he interrupts. “I’m Harry.”

He pushes his hair out of his face, but his fringe of curls falls right back into place. He blows them out of the way with an aggravated sigh.

“You have a lot of hair,” Louis says dumbly.

Harry gives him an odd look, and Zinnia is staring at him like he’s out of his mind. Louis has never been good with new people, considering he’s had the same friends since he was about four years old.

“My whole family does,” Harry says anyway, despite the bewildered look on his face. “Anyway, Madame is going to be back soon, so I’m going to do my work. Good luck here, you’ll need it.”

Louis wants to ask what that means, but Harry already drops his head back down, and the questions he holds escape from his lips in the form of a sigh. Zinnia shoots him a narrowed, questioning look that Louis has an idea what it means, but shakes his head to get her to drop it for the time being. He doesn’t want Harry to think that they’re gossiping about him right in front of him.

Thankfully, Zinnia lets it go.

Despite her efforts, Harry doesn’t speak much more for the rest of class. Louis doesn’t talk much either, but Zinnia hasn’t seemed to notice over the conversations she’s continuously trying to engage Harry in. She’s a nervous talker. Louis knows this, so he doesn’t shut her up. He just smiles apologetically at Harry and they both let her ramble.

Once the bell rings, Harry is quick to leave without so much as a goodbye. Louis stares after him. He doesn’t realize how long he’s been standing still until Zinnia tugs on his wrist, saying that they’ll both be late for their next classes.

“So. Harry’s cute,” Zinnia says conversationally.

Louis sees right through her tone and frowns at her.

“Do not start,” he warns. “I don’t think he’s really my type.”

Zinnia rolls her eyes. “So cute isn’t your type anymore?”

“You say that like I’ve had more than two boyfriends,” Louis says. “I’ll give you that, he is cute. But I think he’s a little too… _mysterious_ … for me.”

“A little creepy, isn’t he.” Zinnia chuckles. They’re outside her classroom now. “I’ll see you later, then. Don’t get too sucked into the mystery.”

Louis huffs out a laugh. She disappears into her classroom, and Louis is still chuckling as he continues on to his.

 

-

 

Louis’ last class of the day is English. It’s a pain in the ass to find, and he walks past it about four times before he realizes the classroom almost completely tucked into the corner is, indeed, senior English.

He stumbles into the room ten minutes late, muttering apologies to his teacher, who shrugs it off and hands him a book and a question package. He makes it clear that Louis is to be caught up to chapter eight by Friday (and it is Wednesday).

Louis sighs and surveys the room for a sit. There’s a few empty desks scattered around the room, but all of them are beside another person, and Louis feels awkward sitting in pairs with just anyone. But then he spots Harry at the back of the room and sighs in relief.

“Hey, Harry,” Louis says, popping up in front of his desk. “You’re in my French class. We sit together.”

“I know,” Harry replies bluntly. “Louis, right?”

“Yeah.” Louis wrings his hands. “Do you mind if I sit here—with you? I don’t know anyone else.”

“Take your seat, Mr. Tomlinson,” his teacher says, sounding unamused.

Pleading, Louis adds, “Please?”

Harry doesn’t say anything, but he moves his bag the empty desk so Louis can sit.

As Louis looks around, he notices most people are talking. Louis looks at Harry quizzically.

“What’s going on?” he asks, almost in a whisper.

“Fuck if I know,” Harry says. “This class is chaos for the first twenty minutes. Unfortunately we have one of the laziest AP English teachers ever.”

Louis curses.

“What?” Harry asks, looking concerned.

“I’m supposed to be in regular English. If I take an AP class I’ll fail.”

“Don’t worry, Gibbins is literally the easiest teacher in this whole school. He acts all tough but he’s the complete opposite, and we never do much. You’ll be fine.”

Harry’s smile is certain, and Louis feels himself calm down.

“You’re sure I shouldn’t switch?”

“I’m sure,” Harry affirms.

“I’m sorry if I’m being intrusive, but…” Louis trails off, pointing to the rainbow band on Harry’s wrist.

“I wear it for the attention on the subject, you’re not being intrusive,” Harry reassures him. “I’m gay, so. I wear this so people know.”

He looks like he feels incredibly awkward, so Louis says, “I should get one, too, then. It’d be pretty cool if I could just hold up my wrist and go ‘yup, I’m gay, not dating my best friend’, you know what I mean?”

Harry laughs. “Not firsthand, but I know the intention behind it.”

“Never had that problem at all?” Louis asks.

The smile fades from Harry’s face. “I never really had a lot of friends growing up.”

Louis watches as Harry carefully pulls his sweater sleeves over his fingers and slides his hand onto his lap.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry looks pale all of a sudden. “I’m just shy. We should probably do our work.”

“We don’t have any work.”

“Well, we will soon. So we should do it.”

It doesn’t make sense, but it’s clear that Harry is done with the conversation, so Louis lets him drop it.

They don’t have the chance to speak again before class ends, and Louis spends the entire car ride home worrying about what he could have said to really listen to Zinnia talk about her day.

He stays out of his mum’s way as she and Zinnia make dinner and opts for playing with his sister. Lottie stays in her room, but the twins and Felicite are more than happy to play. He doesn’t blame Lottie, though. When he was twelve he didn’t like to play much either. He had just figured out what masturbation was and he stayed in his room most of the time, getting off. He figures she’s doing something of the sort, though he knows she’d deny it and say she just likes to watch beauty gurus on YouTube for hours at a time.

Dinner is not quiet. It hasn’t been for two years, but now it’s for positive reasons. Louis’ sisters are eagerly talking about their days, and even Jay is chiming in about what the new hospital is like and how she likes nursing much better here than she did back in Doncaster.

It’s all a nice change from the yelling that they endured before the divorce and the strained conversations that endured after. Part of the change is the positivity Zinnia has brought with her since she moved in, but Louis also knows it’s because his mum is much happier now.

“What about you, Louis? Zinnia? How were your days?” Jay asks, breaking him from his thoughts.

“So good,” Zinnia says, beaming. “I made two new friends. Aura and Chloe-Grace. I think they’re step-sisters. But anyway, they’re both in my science class and they’re really nice. I like them.”

“You should bring them to lunch tomorrow,” Louis interjects. “I’d love to meet them.”

“Sure,” she replies cheerfully.

He’d love to _screen_ them, and if they’re nice, then he’ll consider a friendship with them. He’s more protective of Zinnia than anyone else in the world. There’s been times where his protectiveness has harmed their friendship more than helped it, but Louis has learned to tone it down and judge from afar. He knows now that he has to let Zinnia make her own friends and whether or not they’ll fail has to be something she learns on her own.

“What about you, Louis?” Jay asks.

He shrugs, poking at some green beans with his fork.

“It was alright,” he says. “Didn’t really make any friends but my teachers are nice enough.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll make friends soon enough.” His mum smiles, but Louis suddenly feels overwhelmed. Change sucks. Change sucks really badly.

He pushes back from the table.

“Can I be excused? I have a lot of homework.”

He doesn’t wait for his mum’s reply and disappears up the stairs. Just as he reaches his room, he hears his mum ask, “Is everything okay with Lou?”

Zinnia says, “I think so.”

“It’s probably just the move and the divorce,” he hears his mum say. “He just needs time to adjust.”

Louis doesn’t want to listen anymore. He closes his door and collapses onto his bed. He was telling the truth about his homework, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

He buries his head in his pillow and groans.


	2. Chapter 2

As promised, Zinnia brings Aura and Chloe-Grace to lunch the next day. They appear to be step-sisters like Zinnia said, based on his assumptions on the necklaces around their neck that say ‘sisters’. Though they couldn’t be more opposite, and perhaps that’s where the ‘step’ part of their title comes in.

Louis spent all of French persuading Harry to join him and Zinnia at their lunch table. Harry was hesitant at first, insisting that he likes eating in the library, but Louis had insisted. So Harry is sitting beside him, though he’s trying to hide behind his hair and his clothes are so baggy that they’re swallowing him whole. Louis momentarily thinks he’s made a mistake.

“Hey, Lou. Hey, Harry,” Zinnia says. “This is Aura and Chloe-Grace.”

Harry stiffens at her name. He lifts his gaze to Chloe-Grace, looking up at her blonde hair and bright blue eyes and down to her tight skinny jeans. She glares at him. Louis can see the veins in her neck stand out.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Zinnia asks.

Aura lays her hand on her step-sister’s arm, but Chloe-Grace explodes.

“Get the fuck out!” she screams at Harry. “Get out, get out, get out! I don’t ever want to see you around me again!”

Harry grabs his bag and rushes from the cafeteria. He looks as white as a sheet. Louis has never seen someone looked so scared. He can’t help but blame himself for Harry’s fear.

Zinnia and Aura sit down slowly, carefully. Chloe-Grace does the same, but it’s apparent she’s seething. Louis is beyond curious.

“What the hell was that about?” he demands. His eyes are wild.

“He killed my brother,” Chloe-Grace spits. “He killed my fucking brother.”

She shoves back her chair and storms out of the cafeteria. She’s fast, but not fast enough to hide how fast tears are falling from her eyes.

Aura clears her throat. “I should go after her, make sure she’s okay.”

She slings her bag over her shoulder and makes a beeline for the exit, turning down the hallway Chloe-Grace took.

Louis turns to Zinnia with his mouth agape. She has the same incredulous expression on her face, eyes blazing with thousands of questions. Louis has the same questions rattling around in his head.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Zinnia whispers.

“I know.”

“Like. What the _fuck_.”

“ _I know_.”

“Do you think—”

Louis holds up his hand. “Stop. I don’t know what I think.”

“Chloe-Grace looked really upset,” Zinnia says quietly.

“So did Harry.”

Zinnia buries her head in her hands. Louis wants to do the same, but he refrains for her sake.

“What the hell is going on in this town?” It’s rhetorical, but he wouldn’t know what to say if it weren’t.

Louis places his hand on her back. “I know things are suddenly really fucked up. But we don’t know what the truth is. We don’t know if Chloe-Grace was saying that because maybe her brother killed herself and she blames Harry, or if he really did murder him, or if it even happened at all. We can’t jump to any conclusions, Zinns. We gotta keep a clear head.”

Zinnia scrubs her face with her hands, careful around her eyes so she doesn’t smudge her makeup. Eventually, she nods.

“You’re right,” she murmurs. “You’re right.”

“Come on.” Louis pulls her to her feet. “We should find Harry, see if he’s okay. Accused or not, I’d hate for him to be all alone right now.”

Thankfully, Zinnia is too shaken up to comment on his concern for Harry. She agrees quickly, and the two of them grab their bags and depart.

The halls are almost completely empty, considering the time of day. Most people are in the cafeteria, chatting away. They’re all so unaware of what just went down between Harry and Chloe-Grace.

Louis can’t stop thinking about it. His mind is a stream of too many ‘what ifs’, What if Harry killed Chloe-Grace’s brother? Does Chloe-Grace even have a brother? Did he killed himself? Was he murdered? If Harry did it, why? Or maybe he didn’t do it, and Chloe-Grace is blaming him?

There’s too many things he wants answered, but he doesn’t know where to start. It isn’t his place, but he’s burning with the need for answers. Judging by the look on Zinnia’s face, so is she.

They look through every empty classroom and washroom, but Harry is nowhere to be found. Zinnia sighs and slams her palm against a locker.

“He probably went home,” she says. “I don’t blame him, Chloe-Grace scared the shit out of him.”

Louis feels discouraged. They’ve checked every possible place… except one.

His eyes light up.

“The library,” he says. “Come on.”

He grabs Zinnia’s hand and drags her through the halls. Her wedged shoes stamp against the tiles as she flies after him.

The library is deserted apart from the librarian and two kids on the computers. Zinnia looks defeated, but Louis won’t let her give up. He drags her through all of the aisles until they reach the true crime section. Harry is sitting on the floor, crying. He’s got his sleeve over his mouth, muffling the obvious sounds of his tears. Louis’ heart shatters.

“Harry—” he goes to say, but Harry jerks away at his voice.

“Go away.” He sounds calm, but Louis can hear the way his voice shake.

“We just wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay,” Zinnia says.

Harry shakes his head rapidly. “Go away. Please.”

“Harry—”

“Go!”

Louis jumps. Zinnia pulls him from the library, away from Harry.

“Fuck,” Louis murmurs.

“Yeah,” Zinnia mumbles. “Fuck.”

 

-

 

Harry’s face is stained with tears when he comes to English. He ducks his head until he’s in his seat, and even then, he doesn’t look up. When Louis places his hand on Harry’s arm, he jerks away.

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles. “Just—what happened? In the cafeteria? Was it true?”

“Shut up,” Harry snaps. “Just shut up.”

“I just want to know—”

“You can find out whatever the fuck you want to online. I’m not answering any more questions. I spent too much time doing that.”

Harry’s eyes are cold. He recoils into his chair, pulling his legs up to his chest. He’s so skinny that he can fit curled up even in the confined space of the desk. Louis doesn’t want to call him weak, but he just looks so frail.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says. Harry just turns his head away, clearly trying to hold back more tears. Louis knows he’d be emotional, too, if someone accused him of murder.

They don’t speak for the rest of English. Harry excuses himself five minutes before the bell rings, positively shaking. Louis reckons that it’s anxiety, but maybe it’s also nerves, anger, fear. Every possible emotional humans can feel, Louis is sure that Harry’s feeling them.

Once the bell rings, Louis slowly packs his things. He’s one of the last out of the room, but he’s too out of it to really care. He isn’t paying attention to much of anything.

He’s jerked to the side, and he trips over his own feet.

“Come with me.” It’s Aura.

“What?”

“Just come with me. I have something to show you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Aura drags Louis to the library on the next block. Literally drags him, her hand wrapped around his wrist and tugging. It’s a public space, which means there’s old people playing checkers on one of the wooden tables and adults reading to their kids while in their work clothes, looking frustrated. But there aren’t many kids their age, and Louis feels too exposed, too much like he stands out. He tugs at his shirt.

“What the fuck is going on?” he hisses to Aura.

She holds up her hand, doesn’t say anything. Louis groans in frustration as she forcefully leads him to a computer. Aura’s carefully selected one in the back behind shelves of books, near the teen section. It’s eerily empty. Whatever she’s up to, she’s not looking to get caught. Louis feels his heart rate speed up.

“ _Aura_.” Louis tugs at her sleeve. “Seriously, what’s going on? You haven’t said a word, it’s freaking me out.”

She remains silent as she punches in her log in information. As the computer boots up and the internet loads, she turns to Louis, finally speaking.

“What my step-sister said, about Harry.” She pauses, sighing. “I don’t want you to have any crazy ideas floating around.”

“So we’re here to do what?” Louis asks, but Aura goes back to ignoring him as she types into the Google search engine.

As a webpage she clicked on loads, she says, “Here, take a look.”

Louis does. He skims over the news article, over sentences like _‘Harry Styles, thirteen, was found guilty of the murder of fifteen year old Dustin Rhodes’_ and _‘We are dealing with a case of what is said to be self defense, but there isn’t enough concrete evidence to write Styles off completely’_.

Louis turns to Aura in shock.

“She was telling the truth?” he asks.

Slowly, Aura nods. “Unfortunately.”

“What did he—no, he couldn’t have.”

“It’s all right here, Louis,” she says. “Read it to believe it. I’m not lying, and neither is Chloe-Grace.”

Louis shakes his head. “I—why didn’t I ever hear about it? If it’s on the news like this.”

“It didn’t make headlines outside of Goostrey, where Chloe-Grace and Dustin grew up,” Aura says. “And when it did make national news, they didn’t disclose any names because Harry was underage and Chlo’s parents didn’t want her to have to deal with all of the media attention. She was going through enough already with their divorce and having to move in with her dad, who she really didn’t care for, and now her brother had been murdered. She was thirteen, she didn’t need reporters all up in her face.”

“But—” Louis can’t wrap his mind around it. “Here they say Harry pleaded self defense. He didn’t just go and murder her brother, did he?”

“I don’t think so,” Aura says. “Chlo has a hard time with what was brought to light about Dustin. She really didn’t want to believe it and I know she still holds so much resentment against Harry. I really don’t blame her, though.”

“What happened?” Louis asks.

Harry accused Dustin of trying to rape him that night, and that he panicked and killed him. Said he didn’t mean to, that he was scared. Everyone believed him, because he’s a sweet guy and he truly looked shaken up. But Dustin was dead, so there was no one to testify against him. So they couldn’t just believe him, it wouldn’t be right. So he got four years in juvy. Just got released this summer. No one knows where he’s living now and no one really knows about what he did. This is Holmes Chapel, not Goostrey. Harry doesn’t have the same reputation here. I’m sure he feels safer.”

“Fuck.” Louis scrubs his face with his hands. “Fuck. I don’t—I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“I think it’s best to keep Harry away from Chloe-Grace,” Aura says. “Not because I think he’s dangerous, because I really don’t think he is. He was a scared kid and he showed so much remorse. I don’t think he could have faked that. But Chlo’s not ready. I know it’s been four years, but she didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Dustin. She was visiting their dad in Holmes Chapel and got the call that he’d been stabbed.”

“That must have been really hard.”

Aura nods. “She still thinks about it. She’s not over his death and I don’t blame her, not really. They were so close. Even though what Dustin had tried to do was wrong, so wrong, she still loves her brother. And I know she feels guilty about that. But she also hates Harry for killing him, and I know it confuses her, that she can feel this many things at once.”

“I get it, I think,” Louis says. “There’s no manual on how to grieve when someone dies. She’s doing what she knows how to do. I’ll keep her and Harry separate.”

“I’m sure it’ll be better for Harry, too,” Aura adds. “He was close with Chlo before Dustin died. I’m sure it must be tough for him to see her now that they both live in the same town and go to the same school.”

Louis swallows hard. “This is so much to take in at once.”

Aura sighs. “I know. And I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted to hear. But I couldn’t have you walking around with conspiracy theories in your head about what Harry could have done.”

His phone goes off, and he takes it out of his pocket to check it. It’s Zinnia.

_Don’t know where you went. Waited up for you for fifteen and then took your car home. Sorry!_

Louis groans.

“What is it?” Aura asks, sounding concerned.

“Zinnia. I forgot she had keys to my car so she drove it home,” he says.

“You need a ride? My car’s back at school so we’ll just have to go back for it but I’ll drive you home.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Aura says. “Come on.”

She logs out of the computer and picks up her bag. Louis follows her out of the library and out into the street. The walk back to the school is slower than the walk to the library. But maybe that’s due to the fact that they’re walking at a normal pace instead of Aura racing to get to the library under five minutes.

Her car is a black Audi, and Louis’ mouth drops open. He thinks of his 1998 Honda and compares it to Aura’s new car. She has money. Chloe-Grace must have it, too. Louis swallows hard. He doesn’t have money like this. Not with a single mum trying to clothe and feed six kids and herself.

“My dad got it for me for my sixteenth birthday,” Aura says. She’s noticed the shock on his face like it’s the freckles on his cheeks. “He felt shitty for just leaving my mum and I when I was nine so he came back into my life a few months before I turned sixteen, bought me the car and insured it and then left again.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It was fucked up.”

They go quiet, and Louis turns up the radio. He can’t stop thinking about Harry, and judging by the way Aura is biting her lip, she’s thinking about it, too.

It’s almost impossible to imagine. Harry, at thirteen, driving a knife through someone’s stomach and leaving them to bleed out. He’s not a cold hearted killer, but he’s a killer nevertheless. A killer who stabbed someone on instinct, by accident. A killer who feels remorse and guilt. A killer who was just trying to save his own life, but still spent time in prison. Still, a killer. No amount of tears and apologies can change that, can bring back a life, even if that life wasn’t innocent either.

Louis tries to picture a little boy angrily making someone drop dead, but it doesn’t make the fact that Harry killed someone easier to stomach. It just makes it harder to accept when he pictures the real thing, a scared kid clutching a bloody knife and realizing what he just did. The tears and screams that probably came from both Harry and Dustin, the shock and utter panic that Harry probably felt. Reports say Dustin took eight whole minutes to finally bleed out and die. Louis can’t imagine the pain he must have felt, and if it was worth it to get his hands on a thirteen year old when they had said no. Then he thinks of Harry, and how he had to watch the blood spill from Dustin’s body for eight minutes and see what he had done.

Louis shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

“This is fucked,” he says, aloud. He can’t bear thinking anymore, lost in his own head.

“I know,” Aura says. “I know.”

Louis wants to ask more questions, but Aura looks sick to her stomach. He wonders how much she really knows; if Chloe-Grace told her much or if it was her mum or step-father who sat her down and told her the story, or if she did what he did, Google for ages until she pieced together a good enough truth.

He drops it instead. Aura needs peace, and Louis needs to take his mind off of it. His thoughts won’t shut up, overwhelming him with Harry and death, and he knows that he isn’t going to stop thinking about it for a long time.

Harry probably stays awake at night thinking about it. If he made the right decision, if fight or flight was the reason he stabbed someone of if he truly wanted Dustin dead.

Aura was right, his imagination has gone wild.

She drops him off in the driveway and drives away after they’ve exchanged numbers. She says to call him if he wants to talk about anything, but by ‘anything’ Louis knows she means Harry and any wild theories he can come up with.

He thinks about giving her a hug, but Aura doesn’t look like the type. She tugs her sleeves down and fixes her hair as Louis collects his bag, says a quick goodbye, and backs out of the driveway. She looks shaken up and desperate to go home. He doesn’t blame her.

Louis drops his lunch box in the kitchen and takes his bag up to his room. There’s a note taped to his bedroom door that says his mum will be home from work a bit late and that she’ll pick up takeout Chinese on her way home, written all in Zinnia’s handwriting. She must have called.

His sisters are in the basement, playing dolls based on the squealing and the deep voice Phoebe always tries to pull off when it’s her turn to be the Ken doll that he hears. Lottie is the exception to sister time. She’s in her room, like she always is these days. She’s been reserved since the divorce. Now she’s always on the phone with her new friend, Rylie, for hours on end, just talking about nothing and everything. Based on the low hum coming from her room, Louis assumes that’s what she’s doing now.

Louis strips out of his jeans and changes to a pair of sweatpants. He discards his hoodie and smooths out the white t-shirt he had underneath. He isn’t wearing socks; he never is. His mum and Zinnia get on him about it and how it’ll make him sick, but the cold hardwood doesn’t bother him. It never has, since he was a little kid.

Zinnia’s door is open a crack, like it always is when Jay isn’t home. She says it’s so she can air out her room, but Louis knows it’s to make sure the girls are okay and so she can hear everything if something happens.

Louis pushes the door open without knocking, says her name loudly. Zinnia waves her hand irritably and points to the phone pressed to her ear. Louis says her name again, louder this time, and she finally hangs up.

“Louis, that was Zayn, it was important,” she snaps. “What is so urgent that you couldn’t have waited?”

She sounds like a stern mother scolding her child. She says she doesn’t want kids ever, but if her husband ever did her earliest age would be thirty five, though Louis knows she’d be a fantastic mother.

“It’s about Harry,” Louis says.

Zinnia shoots him a look. “Louis, I swear, if this is more of your wild ideas I’m going to kill you.”

“It’s not that. I know what happened.”

She sighs and rolls to the side of her bed, an invitation for Louis to join her. He settles in under the blankets with her, breathing in the sweet scent of her conditioner on her pillow.

“Alright, what happened?” Zinnia asks.

“It’s a long story.”

“Of course it is.”

Louis smiles sheepishly, but it’s wiped off his face the second he remembers exactly what he has to tell Zinnia.

He clears his throat, says, “Harry did it. It’s true. He killed Dustin Rhodes when he was thirteen years old, or as we know him as, Chloe-Grace’s older brother.”

“Jesus Christ,” Zinnia mutters.

“That’s what I said, but it isn’t what we think,” Louis says. “Harry went to juvy for it. For years. But it wasn’t actual murder. It was manslaughter. It was a self defense case, but because Dustin couldn’t testify because he’s, you know, dead, they had no choice but to send Harry to jail for a few years.”

“Wait, self defense?” Zinnia looks as confused as Louis was.

“Yeah. Dustin was trying to rape him, I think. Harry just panicked,” Louis says. “Fight or flight, right? He was just trying to save himself. He was just a kid, Zinns.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Aura dragged me to the library. We searched online records and newspapers of the incident and found some court documents.”

“Jesus Christ,” she says again. “You stay out of this, okay? The last thing anyone needs, especially Harry, is you digging up a closed case. You satisfied your curiosity, now let it go.”

“I will, I will,” Louis says. But he can’t. There’s still too many questions he has to ask, too many answers he needs to hear.

“I mean it,” Zinnia says.

“So do I.”

She eyes him. If she sees through his lie, she doesn’t say anything.

“They’re coming up next weekend. Zayn said,” she says instead.

Louis’ eyebrows furrow. “Huh?”

“Niall, Liam, and Zayn,” Zinnia clarifies. “We haven’t seen them since we moved and that was, like, a month ago?”

“It’ll be good to see them,” Louis agrees. He stifles a yawn, but Zinnia still catches it.

“Playing detective probably tired you out,” she says. She opens her arms and Louis settles in, little spoon as always when he cuddles with her. “I’ll wake you when Jay gets home.”

“You’re gonna fall asleep, too,” he says, eyes already drooping.

“I won’t.”

But she does. She always does.


	4. Chapter 4

Jay pokes her head in Zinnia’s room, where she and Louis are sprawled. Louis is on her bed, fiddling with the drawstring on his pants. Zinnia is organizing, tidying her closet and drawers and anything with dust.

Jay smiles warily.

“Everything looks good, Zinnia. Clean,” she says.

Zinnia twists to look at her, smiling. “Thank you. I just want everything to be perfect, you know? They’ve never seen our new house.”

“It’s perfect enough,” Louis groans, and his mother shoots him a look.

“I’m off to pick your friends up,” she says. “Do you want to come?”

Zinnia shakes her head. “I need to clean.”

“And I need to stay here with Zinnia to make sure she doesn’t go insane,” Louis says. “You go, mum. We’ll get everything ready.”

“Alright. Make sure the girls stay out of trouble, and that Lottie eats something,” Jay says. She drops a kiss on both of their foreheads. “I’ll be back soon, around eight.”

“Safe driving, Jay,” Zinnia says.

Louis waves, and Jay is out the door. Zinnia cracks her knuckles. One look at her face and Louis can see her stress.

“Relax,” he says. “This is Zayn, Liam, and Niall. We’ve known them since preschool. What are you so worried about?”

“I—I don’t know,” she admits. “You know me, I stress about everything. I just want everything to be perfect. I can’t help it.”

Louis sits up against the headboard and pats the bed. Zinnia drops her Lysol cloths to the ground and nestles in beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder. Louis rarely cuddles her in like this, but he can tell by the wary look on Zinnia’s face that she needs this.

“Not everything can be in your control,” he says. “No matter how much you want things to be, not everything can be something you can control. Take your parents, Zinns. You can’t make them be people you need, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. Understand me?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I guess. They don’t care what my bedroom looks like. They just care about me.”

“Exactly. So stop focusing on the things you can’t control, like your mum and dad and whether or not the boys like the state of your room, and let yourself have fun. Okay? We’re going to have a good night.”

Zinnia nods. “Yeah. We are. A good night.”

“Yes.” He kisses her forehead. She rarely ever allows herself to be comforted. Louis likes taking care of her. “Come on, let’s go set up the living room. I’ll go get some food while you set up the telly?”

Zinnia rolls out of her bed and flicks on the TV embedded in the wall. When they moved into the new place there had been a cut out, and the landlord had said that it used to be a gun safe the previous owner had. Zinnia had put her small box TV in there so she could have more desk space.

The old owner had been arrested for assault late last summer, so Louis’ mum had gotten the house for cheap. It was pretty good for a six bedroom house. She had planned on converting the now-playroom into a bedroom for one of the twins, but they insisted on rooming together.

Louis doesn’t know how he feels about living in a criminal’s house, but he supposes it could be worse than stashed guns and an angry man.

He takes the stairs two and a time and skids into the kitchen on socked feet with worn down traction. He pours chips and popcorn into the large bowls his mum keeps above the sink, then grabs a bag of cookies from the cabinet. A piece of popcorn falls from the bowl and to the floor. It crushes under the weight of his foot.

Louis returns to Zinnia’s room, where she’s sprawled out on her bed. The _Rocky Horror_ title screen is playing in a loop on her TV. He chuckles and sets the snacks down on her desk.

“Getting your Halloween seasonal movies fix?” he asks.

She shrugs. “It’s Zayn’s favourite.”

His brows furrow. “You got a crush on him or something?”

“No!” she shouts, almost too quickly. She clears her throat. “No, I don’t. It’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Louis relents. He curls up beside Zinnia, where they stay until noises of three teenage boys and one frazzled mother alert them of their friends’ presence. Zinnia leaps up in excitement.

“They’re here!”

She goes racing out of her bedroom and downstairs, as excited as Daisy and Phoebe used to get when their father would come home with presents.

Louis laughs. He gets up and goes to follow, but Zinnia is already leading them into her bedroom. She swings the door shut and then claps her hands together excitedly.

Zayn laughs. “You sure haven’t lost your bubbliness, Zinnia.”

“Oh, she definitely hasn’t,” Louis chimes in. “She’s still as positive as ever.”

“Stop it, stop it,” Zinnia protests through giggles, a dead giveaway that she doesn’t mind the compliments.

She plunks herself down on the floor and crosses her legs. The excitement to have the five of them back together, in the same room at the same time, is radiating off of her. Zayn settles in beside her, knee to knee. Zinnia smiles at him.

Louis doesn’t mean to feel jealous. These are his best friends, too, and Zayn isn’t trying to steal Zinnia. He sees her all the time. They get to hog her for a night. It’s impossible to not want to be surrounded by her and her positivity. It’s consuming.

Niall and Liam dig into the bowl of chips Zinnia had brought down from the night table. She’s already into the cookies, munching away while she listens to Niall talk about rugby. Louis settles on the floor and snatches the cookies from Zinnia.

“You play now?” he asks.

Niall nods. “Yeah. Football isn’t starting until the spring so I decided to give rugby a chance. It’s not so bad.”

“I went to one tryout,” Liam says, chuckling. “I didn’t like it.”

“This is why I don’t do sports,” Zinnia says, chuckling. “Anyway, tell me about school. Is Dean Thomas still being a total dick?”

Zayn groans. “Christ, you won’t believe it.”

Louis can see the glint in his eyes. He narrows his own.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “What are you trying to trick us into thinking?”

“He moved,” Liam says, so Zayn can’t drag things on.

“Really?” Zinnia gasps. She’s too excited. “That’s fucking great.”

“Here’s the real good stuff, though,” Niall interjects. “The reason behind why he moved is because he got caught hooking up with Carson over the summer. Your Carson, Louis.”

The _‘your’_ part doesn’t sound right. Louis and Carson broke up in tenth grade. They had only dated six months, nothing too serious. Carson could sleep with whomever he wanted, it had been a year since they ended things.

What baffles him is that Dean had begun a sexual relationship with a boy. The same Dean who teased Louis and Carson whenever they’d hold hands at school. The same Dean who had explicitly stated that he would never, _ever_ be gay because it was gross, and he would just understand.

“Seriously?” Louis can’t help the incredulous question from falling from his lips.

Niall nods. “Yeah. Dean got embarrassed and moved. He couldn’t handle people knowing he had slept with a boy. He couldn’t handle his parents knowing. I think he moved in with his aunt and uncle.”

“That’s terrible.” Zinnia frowns. She looks at her lap, then to Louis. “I couldn’t imagine that, feeling that much internalized hate. I know he was a shit person, but no one deserves to feel that much pain.”

Everyone seems to fall silent. All Louis can hear is breathing and the crunching noises that come from eating. He can’t imagine it either, hating himself for something he can’t change; hating it so much that he forces himself to move. It’s awful, and not even Dean deserves to feel it.

Zayn clears his throat. “Catch us up, Lou. Zinnia tells us you have a crush. On a fucking murderer.”

“It’s not a crush. It’s a fascination,” Louis corrects. “And it wasn’t murder. It was self defense.”

“Yet you’re still into the guy.” Liam is baffled. A quick look at Niall and Zayn shows that they are, too. Zinnia looks stern, like she’s ready to pounce based on what he says next.

“So what? He’s not a bad person.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Like you know that. You’ve been at that school two weeks.”

“Louis, what do you really want from him?” Liam asks. “Truly? Because you’re not fooling us.”

Zinnia squints her eyes. “Yeah, Lou. What do you truly want?”

He sighs. “I just want to know why he did it, okay? I’m so damn curious, I can’t help it. I don’t want to see these things through the media’s perspective. I want to know Harry’s.”

“You’re fucked,” Niall says. “Truly fucked up if you think Harry owes you a damn thing.”

“Yeah,” Zayn echoes. He sounds angry, the tone of his voice strained.

“It isn’t a good idea,” Zinnia says. “You think it’s harmless, but it’s going to hurt him. And you. It’s just not going to end well.”

“Okay. I get it.”

Louis sits back on his heels. He doesn’t know how to make them understand that he isn’t a bad person. He’s just curious. He isn’t trying to hurt Harry. No, that’d be bad. He just wants to ask questions. He doesn’t see the issue with that, he doesn’t.

“Tell them about what you’re doing in German, Zinns,” he says.

As she shares stories with bright eyes and the boys listen to her happily, Louis lays back. He stretches his arms above his head, feeling Zinnia’s plush carpet between his fingertips. He tells himself he won’t think about Harry, but something about a thirteen year old holding a bloody knife is hard not to think of.


	5. Chapter 5

Louis has never been to the cinema so early before.

He rubs his bleary eyes, hair still wild from sleep. Even Zinnia, who rarely ever leaves the house without looking the definition of perfection, is looking a little ragged. She’s in sweatpants, a totally out of character thing for her to wear.

Liam’s hair is cut short, so it stays in place on top of his head. His eyebrows do the opposite; they are wild and bushy and unkempt and remind Louis of Harry’s. But it’s the way the ends of Niall’s brassy hair curl by his ears and brows that make Louis truly see Harry.

He swallows. He only wants the details. Nothing else.

He tugs down his shirt and claps Niall on the back.

“We need to get a seat together,” he says. As if it’s going to be crowded enough to not have a choice at eleven in the morning.

“Yes.” Niall smiles. He slings his arm around Louis’ shoulders.

It’s always been Louis and Zinnia against the world, but when the five of them are together, their dynamics have seemingly changed. Zinnia and Zayn have always gravitated together, and Louis and Niall share this bond that no one can explain. While no one can be as inseparable as Louis and Zinnia, he and Niall are pretty damn close.

The two of them have been known to talk obsessively during movies, so after snacks and tickets are bought, they’re banned to the end of the row, beside Liam but two seats away. They share popcorn and gummies for the first half hour before Louis grows restless and Niall becomes talkative.

“How have you been? Truly?” Niall whispers. His voice is so low Louis can barely hear him, and he has to lean in close so that Niall’s breath hits his cheek when he speaks.

“I don’t know,” Louis whispers back. “It’s been weird since Mark left. It’s been almost a year, but—his last name is my last name, he’s my sisters’ father, he was the one who made my mum happy for years.”

“It wasn’t all great. That’s why they got divorced,” Niall says. He shoots a glance at Liam to make sure they aren’t talking too loud.

“I guess so.” Louis shrugs around a mouthful of popcorn. “It still hurts. Sure, they were fighting a lot and I hated it, but I actually loved him. We all loved him, even Zinnia. And everyone knows she has an amazing judge of character.”

“How are you two?” Niall asks. “Still close or is living in the same space finally getting to you guys?”

Louis shakes his head, repressing a smile. “We’re great. We have our own rooms, our own time. You forget that she’s been basically living with me my whole life, even though it’s only been permanent for the past couple months.”

“That is true.” Niall looks thoughtful. “I’ve never seen a pair like you two before. It warms my heart to see how you take care of each other. You know that she’d probably be dead without you.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Louis says sharply, too loud for where they are. Liam shushes him, shooting him daggers.

“Right. I’m sorry.” Niall reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, but his hand falls to his drink instead and he takes a sip.

“It’s alright.” Louis can’t tell if the words coming out of his mouth are lies or the truth. “I just—I don’t like to think about it, what could have happened to her. It hurts. The both of us. You and Zayn and Liam. We’re all appreciative of what my mum did.”

“I know.” Niall finally squeezes his shoulder. Louis didn’t realize how badly he wanted it.

“And you’re good?” Louis asks.

Niall nods. He’s staring at the screen. “Yeah. I am.”

“Really? Or are you just using rugby as an excuse to keep busy?”

“I don’t know, Louis. Both,” Niall answers. “I’m bored. Greg moved back to Ireland for school, you and Zinnia moved four hours away and Mum is working all the time. I need something to do.”

“What about the guys?”

“Zayn is focused on getting an English scholarship for creative writing at Cambridge and Liam is just being Liam. You know how he is, he’s reserved, anti-social,” Niall replies. “But we’re all okay, honestly. We’re growing up, doing our own things. Not everyone has a freaky conjoined twin friendship like you and Zinnia.”

Louis snorts loud enough for her to hear. Zinnia whips a chunk of her chocolate bar at him. Liam leans in, says, “You guys might want to shut up now, or else I can see her throwing her slushy next.”

Louis pats Niall’s shoulder. “I think we should take the hint.”

Niall nods, and they fall silent, resuming sharing their popcorn as the film continues to play.

 

-

 

 

Louis hates seeing Zinnia cry. Her eyes get puffy and her face flushes red and she always looks miserable. But this time he can’t tell her to suck them back in so he doesn’t have to hurt because he’s crying, too.

She’s clinging to Zayn and Liam and Niall, hugging them with her short, skinny arms. They don’t meet behind their backs, but it’s made up by the way they’re wrapped around her, crushing her into their chests. Louis stands back and watches, teary eyed, as the four of them stand together in a hug that never seems to end.

As Niall breaks away to hug him tightly, Louis realizes this is a much different goodbye than when he and Zinnia moved away. There had been more hope, promises to see each other every weekend and spend holidays together like they used to, especially Halloween and New Year’s. But now Louis can see the exhaustion on their faces from a four hour train ride, getting up early, sleeping in foreign beds in a new city, only to leave the next day before they can adjust.

The hope extinguishes from Louis stomach in the slightest. They won’t see each other the way they planned. A few times a year maybe. Possibly less than four times. It’s different from the way they used to spend all their time together, so different.

Louis squeezes Niall tighter, unsure of the next time he’ll get to.

Zayn’s and Liam’s arms ease around him once Niall detaches himself. Louis hugs them with all this strength, keeping them close long after it’s time for them to go.

“Louis,” Zinnia says sadly.

He can hear the ringing of the train speeding into the platform. Reluctantly, he lets go, wiping the tears from his eyes. He steps back and grabs Zinnia’s hand. She squeezes, keeping him grounded. If he were to let go, he’d never let them get on that train.

Goodbyes have never been easy. Sending his friends home after a mere day, moving across England, Mark leaving. None of it was easy. Letting go, no matter how big or small, will ever be easy.

“We’ll come back soon,” Liam says. “We promise.”

“New Year’s. Come back for New Year’s. We’ve always celebrated together,” Zinnia says. “Or we’ll come see you. Promise us.”

“We promise,” he concedes.

Zinnia blows them a kiss as they disappear behind the automated doors of the train. The two of them watch as they walk down the aisles to their seats and plunk down. Louis hears Zinnia sniffle, and he pulls her in for a hug as the train pulls away.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I know it hurts, but it’s going to be okay. We’ll see them soon. We will.”

She snuffles his shoulder accidentally as she calms. Louis doesn’t let go until she sags against his shoulder, hiccupping occasionally from crying. When she tells him she wants to go home, Louis can hear the tears still lodged in her throat. He didn’t think she would be this sad upon parting. She’s crying almost as much as when they moved.

Briefly, his mind flickers to the dark parts of Zinnia; if something is wrong or if it’s truly just the grief from separation.

In all of the thirteen years of their friendship, Louis has learned that Zinnia hates crying, especially around other people, and that she won’t talk about it until she is calm. Sometimes she won’t talk about it at all, and it’s in those times that Louis worries about her the most. So he pretends she’s just sad without the tears as they walk to the car and drive home. It’s always easier to be comforted than to console someone else, and Louis is never good at what to say when anyone is upset.

Halfway home, Zinnia slowly reaches for his hand. Louis thinks she’s going to briefly squeeze, but she holds on, palms cupped. Louis lets her. It almost feels the way it did when they were kids, when it was innocent and affectionate and so they could show everyone in their class that they already had a best friend and didn’t want another. But now there’s a twinge of desperation behind it, a way of seeking out comforting while still clinging to the idea that this was once a carefree gesture and not a way of wiping away tears.

“I’m going to take a bath, I think,” Zinnia says.

They’re standing in the front porch. Her shoes are ditched to the side, kicked into the shoe rack instead of neatly placed, but Louis still hasn’t been able to reach down and untie his.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll be here, if you need to talk.”

“I’m okay,” she says, too quickly. “I promise.”

Louis can’t bring himself to believe her, but he nods. Zinnia disappears up the stairs. The bathroom door slams a few seconds after.

“Shit,” he cusses under his breath, finally toeing his shoes off.

“Mum says you’re not supposed to say that in front of us.”

Louis rolls his eyes and turns around to face Lottie. “Like you don’t swear.”

“I don’t.” She giggles. Her smile, the bright one that is barely seen anymore, brings a smile to Louis’ face.

“Sure you don’t.” He steps forward to ruffle her hair. She squeaks and fixes it indignantly.

“I straightened it, don’t mess it up,” Lottie huffs. Then she pauses, looking at Louis with an unexpectedly serious expression. “Is Zinnia okay? She looked like she’d been crying.”

Louis sighs. His sisters, especially Lottie, worry about Zinnia almost as much as he does. Sometimes he forgets that they look up to her.

“She’s alright,” he says.

“It’s not what it was before, was it?” Lottie can never get herself to say it. Louis doesn’t blame her. Sometimes he struggles with it himself.

“No.” He shakes his head. “She’s just sad that our friends had to go home. She missed them a lot.”

“I get it. I think,” Lottie says. She toes at the carpet. “Um. Are you busy?”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow. “No, not at all. Is everything okay?”

She shrugs. Lottie turns away and goes to the couch, where she looks at him expectedly. Carefully, he follows her.

“Are you okay?” he says again.

His sister pulls her knees up to her chest, staring at a loose thread on the cushion.

“How did you know that you’re gay?” she blurts. Immediately, she goes red.

Louis splutters, struggling to piece together an answer. “I—I guess I just knew one day. Zinnia and I kissed one day as a dare from Liam and I felt nothing. And then when Zinnia decided it’d be hilarious if Liam and I kissed that changed the game, I guess. I realized kissing boys was nice and kissing girls wasn’t and then I realized I was gay.”

“How old were you?”

“Your age, when the kissing happened. But thirteen when I realized there was a name for liking boys, so that’s when I labelled myself.” Louis pauses. “Why? Do you have feelings for a girl?”

Lottie hesitates. “I might. I also like this boy in my class, though, but Riley is really pretty.”

“She is really pretty,” he affirms. “Do you know what bisexual is?”

“Yes, but—Gwyneth said that’s just an excuse to be slutty and that it isn’t a thing. And it made me even more confused.”

Louis sighs. He doesn’t want to get into being “slutty” and why it isn’t a bad thing if you’re being safe, not during Lottie’s sexuality crisis. So instead, he says, “That’s not true, Lott. It’s valid and if that’s what you think it’s the right label for you, then that’s okay. But you also don’t have to label yourself. It’s a personal choice based on what feels right.”

“So I can like Rylie and the boy in my class, and it’s… okay?” She sounds surprised, her eyes wide with shock. Louis wants to strangle Gwyneth for making her believe there was anything wrong with her.

“You can. I promise,” he says. “Stereotypes like the one Gwyneth said aren’t okay and they also aren’t necessarily true. If someone fits them then that’s how they choose to present themselves, and that’s okay, too.”

“Mum won’t be upset, right?” Lottie asks.

He shoots her a bewildered look. “Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t she accept you? Mum doesn’t care who we love as long as we’re happy. If you like boys, that’s okay. If you like girls, that’s okay. And it’s okay to like both.”

“So if I am bisexual, that’d be okay?” She sounds relieved.

Louis pulls her in for a hug. She doesn’t fight him like she usually does, opting to settle against his chest. For once, Louis is thankful for their age gap and how she can still curl up on his lap.

“Yes, Lottie,” he says. “More than okay.”

She nuzzles his chest. “Thank you, Louis.”

“Love you.” He pairs the affection with a soft kiss to her forehead.

She doesn’t answer, but the way her arms wind around his stomach and how her head is resting in the crook of his shoulder is more than enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Louis feels empty as he walks the halls Monday morning. His car was too silent on the drive to school. Not even the music that continues to blare through his earphones can replace Zinnia’s voice. He makes a mental vow to tell her that she’s never allowed to be sick again and leave him to fend for himself.

Unsurprisingly, Harry is already seated when Louis gets to French. His hair is as wild as always, curling out in all directions. It’s almost as endearing as the way his books are already set up on his desk, and Louis has to fight a smile.

He pulls his earphones from his ears. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Harry drawls back. “No Zinnia?”

Louis shakes his head. “She’s sick. Woke up with a fever of forty. She wanted to come today but my mum made her stay home.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Jesus. She’s dedicated.”

“Too dedicated.”

“I know the feeling,” Harry hums. Louis is left to wonder if it pertains to juvie or school. “I hope she feels better,” Harry adds. “Feeling sick sucks.”

“I’ll pass along the message.”

Louis smiles at him, and it grows when Harry returns it. His teeth barely poke through his lips. Louis can see the tiniest indents of dimples in his cheeks and struggles to supress a coo. He’s always been a complete sucker for dimples. Zinnia has a few small ones in the creases of her mouth, a feature he’s always found adorable.

Harry drops his gaze down to his workbook as their teacher waltzes into the room, radiating confidence. She goes on to assign work, and Harry gets started on it before she’s even finished explaining what to do.

Louis stares.

“You good at French?”

Harry blushes. “I guess so.”

“Come on. I can tell you are. How good are you?” Louis prods.

Harry’s cheeks go impossibly redder. “I’m fluent. I had a lot of free time, so. I guess I just picked it up. I had a roommate whose mum was from France and he could speak it.”

“I know you’re talking about when you were—”

“Stop.” Harry holds up his hand. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I’m sorry.” Louis forces himself to meet his eyes. “And I’m also sorry for how I acted before, for being nosy. It isn’t my business, you’re right.”

Harry struggles to smile. His eyes are so tired, so dull. Louis can see the pain they hold.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

No “it’s okay” or “I overreacted.” It’s him standing his ground, thankful for Louis acknowledging that he had crossed a line. It’s refreshing. Louis likes it.

“I want to make it up to you,” Louis says.

There isn’t much to make up. He’s reaching for an excuse to spend time with him, maybe sneakily ask a few questions. Though he knows, deep in his gut, that Zinnia was right, and that he wants more than that from him, regardless of what he told the guys. There’s something intriguing about Harry besides his past, and Louis can’t get it out of his head.

Niall had murmured to him early in the morning when they were the only two awake that he should run away from Harry, protect his life, because he has already taken one. Louis doesn’t want to run away, he wants to run towards Harry.

Harry lifts his eyebrows. “What?”

“Yeah. I do. And not to be too straight forward, but I want to get to know you,” Louis says. “Will you go out for lunch with me? There’s a pizza joint five minutes from here. Zinnia and I went last week.”

Harry frowns. “Are you just trying to replace Zinnia with me?”

“No!” Louis says it too loudly, and he coughs. “I want what I said I wanted, I’m not trying to pull anything.”

“Okay,” Harry replies, nodding. “But—I don’t—”

He’s too embarrassed to finish, but Louis understands what he’s trying to say. He says, “I’m paying. I asked you out so I pay.”

“Don’t people do that when they’re on a date?”

Louis grins. “Yes.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Harry says.

“You won’t.” Louis writes down his locker number on Harry’s notebook despite his protests. “Meet me at my locker at lunch and we’ll go. I’m looking forward to it.”

Surprisingly, Harry smiles. “Me too.”

 

-

 

They walk to the pizza shop in silence. Wind ruffles Harry’s hair, blowing it around and making it wilder than usual. Louis is endeared as he slyly stares, pushing strands of hair back himself when the non-gelled pieces get too close to his eyes. It isn’t awkward like it usually is with new people; it’s comfortable, and Louis feels like he could blurt out something completely random and silly without making things weird.

He orders for Harry, who seems hesitant to get food he knows he isn’t paying for. Louis insists that it’s alright, but Harry is still reserved. Louis tries to put it in perspective and realizes that if someone he barely knew was buying lunch for him on what had been hurryingly called a date that he’d be slightly uncomfortable, too.

The two of them venture outside to the benches at the back of the shop. There’s kids from school inside. Harry appears to be eager to get away from them. Louis knows why Harry is self-conscious, and it pains him to think about.

“Do you want to skip this afternoon? We could go to the mall?” Louis asks. He’s long since finished his pizza, but Harry is only halfway through. Louis has noticed that he nibbles his food and chews as slowly as he speaks.

He shakes his head. “My parents would kill me.”

He stumbles as he says parents. Louis’ eyebrows furrow.

“You’re not close to them?”

“No, not really,” Harry says. His cheeks are flaming and Louis doesn’t understand.

“I was never close to my dad,” Louis tells him. He isn’t sure what he’s trying to do; if he’s trying to make Harry feel better or if he’s trying to justify his hatred for his biological father all over again.

Harry tries to smile, but fails. “Parents, right?”

The attempt at humour is too forced, but Louis goes along with it, just as eager to lighten the mood as Harry is.

“Right,” he says. He even tacks on a laugh to make Harry feel better, though it’s flat. On a whim, he adds, “Would you like to come over this weekend?”

He holds his breath as Harry looks at him. Based on the comical expression on his face, Harry clearly doesn’t know if he’s supposed to take it as a joke or not.

“I don’t know,” he finally says. Louis can see a small crack in the walls he clearly has built in the form of the fear flashing in his eyes.

“Why are you nervous?” Louis asks. “I just—I thought it would be nice to hang out where you aren’t constantly glancing around to see if someone is staring at you. Because yes, I’ve noticed.”

 _And it breaks my heart_ , he thinks, but doesn’t say it.

Harry looks down. “I’m sorry. I want to, I’m just not the type of person people usually bring home.”

“I know what you did,” Louis says. Harry recoils. “It’s okay,” Louis continues, gentler. “It is, honestly. I’m not—I’m not judging you. It happened four years ago. I don’t think you’re dangerous.”

“I never said that,” Harry says. The hurt in his voice cuts like a knife.

“I know, but my friend said you were and I don’t believe that. I wanted you to know. Come over,” Louis pleads. “We’ll watch movies and eat junk food and then ignore each other for our phones when it gets late and we’re tired but too proud to admit it. It’ll be fun. Please?”

Harry sighs. “I’m not a conquest, right? You promise me that this isn’t about befriending someone who has a…bad… past?”

“I promise you,” Louis assures him. “Zinnia wouldn’t me near you if that were the case. She’d kill me first.”

He cringes at the phrase, but Harry doesn’t seem too affected. Instead, he says, “Okay. I’ll come.”

Louis has never been so excited to hear those words in his life.


	7. Chapter 7

Louis bounces around the kitchen, humming under his breath. Jay is bent over the stove, stirring a pot of pasta. He won’t stop making noises; singing and whistling and playing with his lip rather obnoxiously. He’s like a wire ready to snap, and Jay has had enough.

“Louis,” she says, exasperated. She turns around, a gentle but annoyed expression on her face.

He clamps his mouth shut, spinning to face her with cheeks that are turning pink.

“Yeah?”

“Louis, I love you, but you’re getting on my nerves,” Jay says. “What’s got you so jumpy?”

Louis shrugs. “I’m just nervous. Harry’s new. We haven’t had new people over for dinner in ages.”

“I know.” Jay steps forward to run her fingers through his hair. He leans into her touch, letting out a sigh at the comforting touch.

“I’m sorry,” Louis murmurs.

She presses a kiss to his forehead. “It’s okay, darling. It’s going to be okay, don’t worry. Harry sounds like a really nice boy, we’ll have a good night.”

Louis nods into her chest. How is he supposed to tell his mother that she’s cooking dinner for a murderer, no matter how sweet he is? He can’t find anything good to say, so he says nothing at all and pulls away from their hug.

“Set the table for me, yeah?” Jay asks.

Louis knows she’d have Felicite do it (it’s her chore day), but she’s giving him something to do so he can calm his nerves and she can have some peace.

He struggles to find a place for everyone. Their table is barely big enough for the six of them, and fitting in a seventh person proves to be a difficulty that he hasn’t experienced since his step-dad left.

He squeezes a place for Harry in beside where he and Zinnia would sit, thinking that it would make him more comfortable to be around people he half knows.

Zinnia comes downstairs when Louis is halfway through setting out cutlery, and she grabs the forks from his hand and says, “You might want to go to the door. I saw a car pull into the driveway.”

He lights up and makes a beeline for the front foyer.

“Harry’s here!” he calls. “Get food on the table!”

He hears Zinnia say, “Jesus, I’ve never seen Louis be so _annoying_ ,” and clears his throat as a reminder to himself to chill the fuck out.

Louis backs away from the door so Harry won’t see his shadow from outside. When the doorbell rings, he counts to five before answering the door so he won’t come off as weird. Though he can’t keep a bright smile off his face when he sees Harry. He can’t help it; he’s just so damn excited.

“Come in, come in,” he says. He cringes at himself, but he doesn’t stop. “You can put your shoes there. Dinner’s about ready, so we can go sit.”

“Louis.” He turns to see Zinnia. “Your mum needs you.”

She’s saving him from more embarrassment. Harry hasn’t said a word since he got in, and judging by the pale expression he has, he doesn’t know what to say.

“Right. I’m coming.”

Louis bounces on the balls of his feet as he joins his mum in the kitchen.

“You needed me?” he says.

Jay shakes her head. “I was trying to spare you from embarrassment. Your cheeks were so red I could see them from here. But you can take the pasta out for me while Zinnia gets your sisters.”

He nods and takes the bowl from her. Harry is sat at the table, wringing his hands nervously. As he sets the pasta down, Louis feels a twinge of guilt that he left him there by himself.

“Sorry about it being a bit hectic, big family problems and all,” he says as he sits.

Harry forces a smile. “It’s okay. I understand. My family is big, too.”

He hesitates when he says “family,” just like he did when he mentioned his mother. More curiosity is sparked inside Louis, but he pushes it down. He told Harry this was to be friends, not to be a detective, and he isn’t going to make himself out to be a liar.

“Yeah, it sucks sometimes,” he says instead.

As Zinnia skids into the kitchen on her socks, the twins trailing behind like bumbling babies, Louis jerks his head towards the chair beside Harry. Thankfully, she gets the hint and sits next to Harry, sparing him from the awkwardness of Jay or his cringe-worthy younger sisters.

Once Daisy and Phoebe realize they have the chance to sit at the head of the table, they race for the seats. Jay and Louis typically snag the place at the ends of the table, but seeing his youngest sisters so excited about a spot at the table makes him want consider giving his seat up.

Lottie is the last to sit, as always. She joins them after the food has already been served and there isn’t too much left for her. She has her Riley face on, meaning she just got off the phone with her. It’s easier to understand her obsession now that Louis can place a crush behind it. Looking at Harry, he can see a comparison he doesn’t know how to feel about.

“How is Riley?” he asks, just to prove a point.

She scowls. “She’s lovely, thank you. And she says hi.”

“Is she your best friend?” Harry asks.

Louis is surprised; he hadn’t expected Harry to speak unless prompted. He exchanges a look with Zinnia behind his head, who seems just as shocked.

Lottie nods. “We met at summer camp. She suggested that we move here so we could live closer. It’s nice, better than living with my dad in Doncaster.”

“Lottie,” Jay warns.

“What? If Harry’s going to be Louis’ boyfriend or whatever then he should know about the divorce.”

“ _Charlotte_.”

Jay isn’t fucking around. She never uses Lottie’s full name. Lottie throws up her hands and focuses on eating.”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Jay says. “That was inappropriate of Lottie to discuss.”

“It’s okay.” Harry gives a strained smile.

“You’re in Lou and Zinnia’s grade, right?” Jay asks.

Louis groans. _Let the questioning begin_.

Other than Harry’s blush, he doesn’t seem to mind too much.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m in their French and Louis’ English.”

Everyone is unusually quiet. If his mum weren’t asking questions, Louis is sure no one would be talking.

“Do you know what you’d like to be when you’re older?” Jay asks next. “Zinnia would love to be a doctor. She’s quite intelligent.”

Louis waits for her to say something about him, but she doesn’t. He swallows down the sting. He’s never been as smart as Zinnia, but he has plans, too. He’s going to sell insurance and adopt three children and cats, because he’s always wanted one but Phoebe is allergic, so they could never get one.

“I want to be a child psychologist,” Harry says.

Jay purses her lips. “Very cool.”

“Don’t say cool, mum,” Lottie interjects.

“Why not? I’m cool.”

Lottie groans. “Not when you say it. You’re too old.”

Jay holds up her hands. “Fine. I won’t say cool.”

Harry cracks a smile, and Louis sighs in relief. Harry has started to look at ease, and Louis feels better about his host skills. His mum continues to ask Harry simple questions, questions that wouldn’t make his head explode just trying to think of answer, and Louis finds appreciation for her in the coldest regions of his heart.

He listens to Harry speak, endeared by his answers about university and his sister and how he loved speaking French. Harry is too damn cute, and Louis is crushing hard, and it isn’t good. He knows his mum can tell; he’s never been subtle, and he’s smiling like an idiot.

He drags Harry up to his room after they eat. Harry seems in awe of Louis room, despite the fact that it’s small and stuffed full of shit he never puts away no matter how many times his mum tells him to.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Your room is so big,” Harry murmurs. Then he blushes, like he’s ashamed of what he said. Louis wants to hug him so he know it’s okay, but he doesn’t.

“It’s kinda small, but thanks.”

Louis’ laugh is a mix between endeared and confused and concerned, and he realizes Harry has caught on by the way he wilts.

“I’m guessing your room is smaller than mine?” he asks, attempting to ease the tension.

Harry shrugs and gingerly sits down on his bed. “A bit. I share with two other people.”

“You have a lot of siblings.”

“I guess so.” Harry looks lost for a second and rolls onto his back. “Why does Zinnia live with you? Did her parents… pass?”

“No, they’re still alive,” Louis says. He sucks in a deep breath and collapses beside Harry on the bed. The topic always upsets him, and if he’s going to talk about it, he needs to be sitting.

“Oh. Then why?” Harry blushes. “I’m being too inquisitive. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Louis smiles at him so he knows it’s alright. “Her parents are in rehab.”

“Like… for drugs?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Harry looks pale. Louis squeezes his hand to reassure him that it’s okay, that he was just curious and that Zinnia is healing, but Harry still looks embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry for being nosy, I had no idea,” he says.

Louis slowly pulls his hand away. “It’s okay. Honestly. They’re addicted to heroin. My mum went through the courts to become her guardian because they wouldn’t give up the rights, even though they admitted she’d be better off here, with stability. I think she’s been here about six months. Her parents are always in an out of rehab or jail. Currently it’s rehab.”

“Jesus,” Harry mutters. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”

“She’s tough. She’s healing.”

Harry looks to his lap. “That’s shit. Addiction is hard.”

His eyes are glimmering. Louis wants to ask, but he knows he shouldn’t. His mum may not appreciate it all the time, but he has common sense.

“How about we watch a movie?” he suggests.

Harry purses his lips. “Yeah, sure.”

Louis passes him the remote to his TV. “You choose something to watch. I’ll get popcorn. You want butter?”

“Yes, please,” Harry replies, and Louis files the information into a file of facts he knows about Harry. He tucks it next to Harry’s dream university (Oxford) and his favourite kind of cookie (chocolate chip). Bless his mum for getting all this information out of him.

As the microwave beeps and Louis swings the door open, he stumbles back into his mum, who presses a cool hand to his shoulder blades to steady him.

“Sorry,” he says.

“That’s alright.” She has a smug look on her face, and before Louis can ask, she says, “Do you like him, baby?”

“Mum, it’s not—it’s not like that.”

“Are you sure? Because you’re acting silly around him and you seemed very nervous today,” she says.

He shrugs. “Don’t make a big deal about it. It’s not a big deal.”

He’s evading, and his mum knows it. She sighs, but nods, parting with a forehead kiss. “I promise.”

Louis takes the stairs two at a time. He closes his bedroom door softly, careful not to spook Harry, who has his back turned. Louis can see the TV and groans when he sees the shitty horror movie Harry’s selected.

“If you’re going to be into horror, watch good horror,” he says, flopping onto the bed with the popcorn bowl in his hand.

Harry roll his eyes, reaching for a handful of greasy kernels. “I’m a horror enthusiast. I didn’t think you’d be able to handle my first pick.”

“Really now?” Louis leans in a bit closer, but Harry pulls back, sobering up.

“Did you mean what you told your mum?” he asks.

Louis flushes. “You heard that?”

Harry bites his lip, giving a minute nod. Louis wants to pull his bottom lip out and bite it himself.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “I wasn’t trying to listen, I just—did you mean it? Do you like me?”

Louis doesn’t answer him for a few moments. He watches the hope fall from Harry’s beautiful face and it briefly dawns on him that Harry _wants_ him to have feelings.

“Yeah, I was being serious. I think you’re cute,” he says.

“Oh.”

For a moment Louis questions his decision, but then Harry starts giggling, and he can’t help but smile. He gently grabs Harry’s face, but it still feels too rough for this boy who is too soft to be labelled as heartless.

“What are you doing?” Harry stutters out, pulling back when Louis gets millimetres away from his lips.

“I’m sorry, I thought—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m just—I’m not ready for that. We just met.”

He doesn’t say he doesn’t like Louis, he doesn’t tell Louis he isn’t interested. He breathes out in relief that Harry still likes him, even just a little. And though he’s never said it out loud, Louis can still feel it in the way his eyes sparkle and his dimples pop out.

“You want to take this slow?” he asks.

Harry draws his knees to his chest. “I don’t know what I want. I think—a cuddle?”

He sounds so innocent when he says it. Louis’ heart clenches. He gently eases Harry into his arms and they hit the pillow, a bowl of popcorn that has gone cold on their chests. Harry closes his eyes despite the fact that Louis has started the movie, and when he falls asleep, Louis just holds him closer, marvelling in the way they seem to fit, Harry’s head in his neck and fingers curled into his shirt in a room that Harry cutely thinks is huge.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost 4 months. I think I'm back.

Harry cannot be described as anything but gentle.

It’s the only word running through Louis’ head as he looks down at the boy strewn on his chest, asleep. Harry is gentle in the way his hair is messily spread on the pillow, and the way his lips poke out as he breathes. His cheeks are soft against Louis’ arm, acne scars and freckles marking his skin. Even the way his fingers are splayed over the sheets as he snuffles in his sleep.

It’s too soon for love, he knows, but Louis also can’t picture Harry asleep anywhere else but in his arms.

Somehow Louis’ fingers find their way to Harry’s hair. They detangle and tug, and Louis swears he hears Harry sigh. He runs his fingers through Harry’s hair for ages, not even stopping when his wrist begins to cramp. He wonders what Zinnia would say if she were to walk in on them cuddling like this, if she’d be happy or confused, even angry. Slowly, he retracts his hand, letting it fall above Harry’s head.

“Why’d you stop?” he hears Harry murmur.

Colour finding his cheeks, he says, “I’m sorry.”

His hand stays on the pillow.

Harry’s eyes flutter open, looking to Louis and then to his hand. Embarrassment turns his ears red and he rolls out of Louis’ arms.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, it was an accident,” he says.

He’s too far away now, and Louis is cold.

“Come back.”

Harry shrugs.

“Harry. Come back.” Louis holds his arms open, beckoning him.

Harry doesn’t lay back down, but he does move closer. Their thighs touch, separated between a thin blanket and pajama pants. Harry bites his lip, pulling plump, red flesh between his teeth.

“What’s going through your head?” Louis asks.

Harry shrugs again, but his façade is crumbling.

“Nothing important, really,” he says, slowly. Harry always chooses his words carefully, cautious not to say too much. Louis couldn’t imagine living with that many walls.

“What is it?” he gently prods.

Harry hugs his knees. His sigh makes his bangs blow to the side, mussing up his hair even more.

“I keep thinking about what you might or may not know about me and the guy I—you know,” he says eventually. “I don’t know assumptions you’ve made about me, opinions you’ve formed. If you’re here just to tell your friends you’ve been talking to the only kid in town who’s spent time in jail.”

“Harry—”

“I don’t know what it is exactly that you’ve read, what you think you know, but there isn’t a lot of truth out there.”

“I know what he tried to do to you, and—”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Harry says, silencing him.

Louis swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It was reflex. K-killing him, I mean.” Harry looks away, but Louis can still see the tears he’s struggling to hide. “I was trying to save my life and I took another. I know it isn’t fair but I was scared.”

“It’s—”

The ‘okay’ doesn’t come out of his mouth. Louis can’t tell him it is, because it isn’t.

“You were just a kid,” he tries, but it feels insincere.

“I know that shouldn’t have been my first idea. I know I should have done something else, and I knew as soon as I—as I—as he died that I fucked up. I wish I could take it back.”

“Then—then bad things would have happened to you,” Louis murmurs.

“I know.”

Harry meets his eyes, and Louis can see just how lifeless they are. Harry has too many secrets, too many scars. Louis wants to hear them, heal them, but he doesn’t know his own intentions. If he wants this to be a romantic, teenage love story where they save each other, or an exchange of life stories before they part at graduation.

He doesn’t know what he wants Harry to mean.

“I think I should go home,” Harry says.

“Okay.” Louis tries not to sound disappointed. “Do you want breakfast first?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I just want to go home.”

He sounds defeated. Even sad. Louis doesn’t know how to cheer him up. He’s only good at making Zinnia laugh whenever she’s down. He doesn’t know how to read Harry.

Louis leans across the bed to grab his keys from the nightstand.

“I’ll take you home,” he says.

Harry shyly reaches for the hoodie he discarded somewhere in the night. Louis watches as he pulls it on over his head, causing his curls to become more mussed up than his slumber did.

“Come on,” Louis says, shrugging on his jacket. He thinks it’s Zinnia’s bomber, considering its neon purple and she constantly leaves her shit in his room.

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Nice coat.”

“Fuck you.” Louis is laughing as he looks down at the jammed zipper. The bomber is too small to zip up to his chin, but he still tries, always determined.

Harry giggles, eyes lighting up from their previous sallowness. Louis smiles.

“Come on.”

 

-

Harry’s house is small and bricked. It looks like a cottage out of something Disney, and Louis snorts.

“What is it?” Harry looks alarmed, embarrassed.

“It’s nothing, I just think your house is quaint.”

Harry nods, but his breath sounds like it’s caught in his throat. Louis has noticed how shy he becomes, how nervous, whenever a piece of his life is brought into the open. His reluctance to share even his address is questionable, but Louis knows better than to ask, even if he’s wondering why Harry’s house is one of seven on the whole block.

“Will you thank your mum for having me this weekend?” Harry asks.

He’s closer than before. Louis can see each individual eyelash, feel his breath. It’s almost too intimate, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I’ll tell her,” Louis assures him, barely speaking in an octave above a whisper. He’s normally loud, but around Harry, he feels an almost instinctive need to be soft and gentle.

“Thanks.”

Harry leans in again, and Louis hears his breath hitch. Harry’s eyes pinch shut, almost pained, and Louis wonders if the idea of being this close to each other is what’s hurting him. Then, Harry surges forward, pressing their lips together. Louis doesn’t have a chance to close his eyes before Harry is gone, leaving his lips cold and his proximity lonely.

He presses a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek.

“See you Monday,” he murmurs.

Harry’s voice is barely a whisper. “See you.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Louis alone in the car to trace his lips and smile stupidly.

His phone buzzes.

 _Don’t fuck it up_ , Zinnia says.

 _I won’t_ , Louis responds.

He says it again to himself.

“I won’t fuck this up.”


End file.
